Two Writers plus One MarySue equals Much Madness
by Sunsong
Summary: The Mary-Sue is a parody. Her author is a parody. I, the author of the author, am a parody. My first Mary-Sue Parody! Please read and review! Actually, it's 2 parodies in 1.
1. Much sarcasm

A/N: This is to appease all my suicidal instincts here. They were clamoring for a Mary-Sue. I have obliged them. [] show little comments of my own. You may want to try pronouncing the Mary-Sue's name out loud. ;D Also, I take pride in having my fics being mostly grammatically correct. This one is no exception, although I have put my comments in brackets. Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all of the semi-recognizable characters. The Mary- Sue belongs to whoever wants to claim her. (Just give me the blame, er, credit).  
  
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Anna Smith was staring at her computer screen and twisting a hank of her mouse brown hair around one finger. 'That does it!' After she had thought that, Anna proceeded to type.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~ Summary: A beautiful Elf is forced in marriage to Thranduil. She ends up falling for Legolas. Will he love her back? Please read and review! Author's Note: This is (like) my (like) first story. I've (like) tried to get rid of all the likes because my (like) English teacher says so. Since this is (like) my first story, please be nice. This is after the Return of the King. I know what's happened in the plot because I've read Cliffnotes. Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien  
  
[Sunsong: After this story.why should he want it?]  
  
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a tiny kingdom called Middle-earthland. [Anna didn't have much imagination] In the kingdom of Middle-earthland, lived an amazingly beautiful Elf maiden named Imahorewen. She was more beautiful than Arwen and Galadriel combined. [Anna didn't like competition either.] One day she was out walking when her evil, meanie-mo Father showed up. [Anna doesn't like writing curse words.]  
  
"Imahorewen, get ready to leave."  
  
"But, Daddeee!"  
  
"Your marriage has finally been nicely arranged with Thranduil the King of Mirkwood. While I have to pay a dowry for you, the bride-payments are worth at least five times that amount." [Sensible of the king of Middle-earthland. He gets rid of a useless and annoying Mary-Sue and gets paid in exchange.] "The last time that Thranduil of Mirkwood was here, he saw your once in a lifetime beauty and declared that he simply had to have you. Now, mount your horse." Imahorewen's father was obviously cruel and evil. A forced marriage! That was, like, from the middle ages! [Yes, yes, I know. This is the Middle Ages. YOU tell her that]  
  
Imahorewen saw that there was nothing she could do. She mounted her horse with courage. She would see this through. However, nothing she could do prevented the pearl-like tears from slipping down her cheeks. It took four long weeks for her to arrive in Mirkwood. Her father insisted on accompanying her. Imahorewen knew that she could have easily escaped the small company, yet something held her back. It certainly wasn't fear of being caught. She was able to walk in the woods without making a sound or leaving tracks. She also knew that she could live on her own in the woods for years if she had to. In other words, it was the fact that somehow or another, she knew she would meet someone special. Imahorewen had come from a long line of seeresses and had the gift in a greater measure than any of her ancestresses. Imahorewen started to get a headache in the back of her overly-beautiful and thick skull that heralded a vision.  
  
****** Anna looked at her computer screen.  
  
"Hey, I, like, didn't type that.I think I, like so should correct that." [Like, duh. Of COURSE you didn't type that. You are in my power! *Evil laugh heard in background *]  
  
Anna started to type.  
  
****  
  
Imahorewen started to get a headache in the back of her eyes that heralded a vision. But, like, wait! It was no vision! The most beautiful (the only word that could be used for HIS good looks) elf she had ever seen rode up on a perfect white horse with a flowing, silvery mane and tail. [Kindly excuse me while I barf.] Imahorewen knew she was in love.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Anna's A/N: Give me, like, 200 and something reviews, and I'll like, update soon!  
  
Sunsong's A/N: Yes, yes, I do want reviews before I continue with this monstrosity (so I can have someone to blame). You have been warned. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! Oooh, that was fun! Evil laughter is FUN! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! 


	2. More sarcasm!

A/N/ Sunsong: Thank you for reviewing! *rubs hands together in glee * All in the name of the parody. Oh, if I ever get around to finishing this, I may do an (in no particular order) Aragorn, Boromir, Frodo and/ or Fellowship one. Oh, and the reviewers mentioned in this chapter bear no resemblance (other than being reviewers) to you wonderful people. Oh, by the way, for all you curious readers, Boromir is my Lust Object. I just did Legolas because I'm sick of all the Legolas Mary-Sues. Once again, [] stand for my various comments. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Once again people, evil laughter is FUN!  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all of the semi-recognizable characters. The Mary- Sue belongs to whoever wants to claim her. (Just give me the blame, er, credit).  
  
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Anna Smith looked at all the reviews she'd gotten from her readers. [I've always wondered why the M-S's get the most reviews, must be some dastardly plot on the part of all the M-S writers.] There was 'Lik, kewl! Pls, pls, Pls ConTinuE' from ArGONiskewl. There was 'woa, ur stori is incredibl!' That one was from LegolsisCVUTE. The only flaw (as far as the esteeméd Miss Smith was concerned) [major sarcasm there] in the dozen or so glowing reviews was the one from Eternally_Correct. 'As far as blatant Mary- Sueishness and undeniably horrendous plotting is concerned, your story may take the prize. I have not had the horror of reading such an utterly disgusting and pointless fic in years.' Not that Anna understood half the words used in the review, but she understood the gist. Bristling with, no doubt, righteous indignation, she immediately dashed off a flame on one of Eternally_Correct's stories. 'This story, liked, sucked! How could you even think that, like, Aragorn would name his son anything as sissyish as Eldarion! Who would, like, do something that rotten to his kid? This story, sucks! Why couldn't you have written in English! I don't know what, like, language you wrote your story in, but it wasn't, like, English.' After answering that flame, Anna decided to continue with her story.  
  
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A/N: Hi y'all! I'm, like, back! ( I have no idea where I got my heroine's name from, but I like it! [muffled giggle is heard] What was that sound? Never mind, it's, like, gone now.  
  
Since I forgot to describe Imahorewen earlier, here's like, what she looks like. She has long flaming red hair that goes down to her feet and beautiful, clear, emerald eyes. She normally wears a light green dress with gold patterns. [I didn't have the stomach to type a longer description.] ~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Imahorewen stared at the elf. She didn't remember what Thranduil looked like at all, so, if this was, like Thranduil, this marriage couldn't be all bad. She almost fainted when the elf reached her side. Clearly captivated by her beauty, his eyes, gray as the sea, bored into her forest green ones.  
  
[Okay, don't ask me what garbage heap I'm pulling this from. If I can stand typing it, you can stand reading it. Oh, I have no idea where Anna is finding her vocabulary. Then again, inconsistency is one of the main characteristics of a Mary-Sue and her author.]  
  
"Whoa, you're so beautiful.I mean, my name is Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. I am the Crown Prince of Mirkwood. My dad sent me to bring you to him ASAP."  
  
[As I said earlier, 'don't ask me what dung heap I'm pulling this from. If I can stand typing it, you can stand reading it. Oh, I have no idea where Anna is finding her vocabulary. Then again, inconsistency is one of the main characteristics of a Mary-Sue and her author. ' Keep repeating that under your breath. * rubs hands together in glee* Don't worry, I have Ideas as to saving this story.and Anna Smith from the PPC. Oh, the PPC is free to work on the both of them. If they should happen to come across this fic.Have fun! I'm not going to have Anna type "like" every third word or so, too much work.]  
  
Imahorewen dreamily answered. "Oh, ok." Naturally put into a stupor by this elf's incredible good looks.  
  
[I can't believe I'm typing this.put it this way, my private nickname for Legolas is "Barbie-Elf-Boy" as inspired by Thalia Weaver *dodges bullets and various other missiles *]  
  
The two of them rode off to Thranduil's palace. Imahorewen's joy at being accompanied by the Crown Prince was only marred by the fact that several ravens deliberately pooped on her.  
  
[Hey, ravens are extremely intelligent birds. I like them. Oh, I have no idea where the MS's escort drabbled off to.so Sue me. ;D]  
  
Once at Thranduil's palace, Imahorewen was immediately made over by as many male and female elves as her heart could desire. Once cleaned, primped and with her hair done up, she descended from her apartments to the Grand Hall. Her stately entrance was only marred by the fact that she tripped over both her robes and hair, landing in the arms of Thranduil's mistress. Unsurprisingly insulted, she launched into a tirade (and a whole new octave) that basically denounced Legolas for failing to catch her. Imahorewen then realized whose arms she'd landed in, and kicked Thranduil's mistress in the shins. Thranduil's mistress, unsurprisingly (to all save Imahorewen) retaliated by pulling Imahorewen's hair, leading to more bodily harm on both their parts, finally ending in a food fight in which the elven courtiers, frozen statue-like by the shock of the Mary-Sue's conduct until mentioned by the author in this very sentence, gleefully took part.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Anna looked at what she'd typed. "Hey, that wasn't what I'd meant to happen at all!" The greatly esteemed Miss Smith proceeded to retype.  
  
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Once at Thranduil's palace, Imahorewen was immediately made over by as many male and female elves as her heart could desire. Thranduil seemed horrified by the Mary-Sue that had popped up on his doorstep. He left her alone. Unluckily (for them) none of the other elves understood the horror that had been unleashed in Mirkwood. Once cleaned, primped and with her hair done up, she descended from her apartments to the Grand Hall. Elven courtiers whispered behind their fans, as she descended with beforehand- unknown grace. Thranduil's former mistress spitefully stuck out her leg and tripped her. Imahorewen started to fall, but was thankfully caught by Legolas. Asorenjara, Thranduil's former mistress was immediately shooed out of the hall by Thranduil's guard as the various elven courtiers whispered in shock at this disgraceful conduct by one of their own. What would the king of Middle-Earthland think? He might declare war on them!  
  
[For accidentally-on-purpose getting rid of his M-S of a daughter? You should live so long!]  
  
Thankfully, Imahorewen appeared to disregard this insult. The Elves gradually relaxed, as the banquet proceeded. Thranduil was becoming more drunk by the hour.  
  
[I hate typing this. Believe it or not, I happen to like Thranduil as a character. Ah well, all in the interests of a good parody.]  
  
Legolas whispered to Imagorewen, "Lady, you should leave now. My dad doesn't exactly watch whatever he's saying when he's drinking." Close to fainting from his nearness, Imahorewen agreed. To the ring of the increasingly indecent toasts proposed by Thranduil, the two elves exited.  
  
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Anna: So, did y'all like it? Review and I'll give you a cookie! But I'll only update for like, 200/ more.  
  
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A/N: I can't believe my stomach lasted through typing that! Ugh! Now, for the real ending to Thranduil's banquet..  
  
Thranduil, who had only been pretending to be drunk, happily watched from the corner of his eye as his son escorted the wench from the room to the territory of the giant spiders. The nerve of that girl! Pretending to be betrothed to him.and princess from a fictitious country! Did the denizens of Middle Earth truly think him that gullible? He must talk with Galadriel and Elrond. Something odd was going on.and he distinctly disliked it. He only disliked it because it was not worth his hatred.  
  
****  
  
2nd A/N: Much as I wish that I could actually write this into the story.hmm, why don't you tell me if this should be the actual ending to my parody. If you want me to continue torturing the denizens of Mirkwood, review and let me know! Either way, I want a review! Please? 


	3. And yet more sarcasm!

A/N: Well, I've decided that this will be one of the last chapters to this fic.Neither the Mary-Sue or Anna Smith should know what hit 'em. *starts laughing evilly * The computer starts to look slightly frightened. I had no idea that any computer could actually display an emotion, but I always said that mine was smarter than it let on.  
  
Have fun! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! For the umpteenth time, evil laughter is FUN!  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all of the semi-recognizable characters. The Mary- Sue belongs to whoever wants to claim her. (Just give me the blame, er, credit).  
  
Ps. I have no idea of the name of Thranduil's wife, if anyone does, please let me know. Also, I'm assuming that Legolas was not the oldest son, because I doubt that the Elves of Mirkwood would have allowed him to go traipsing off on that moderately suicidal quest to rid the world of the One Ring. Thank Eru it was successful. I also have no Elvish dictionary.  
  
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Anna tried to crack her knuckles, failed, and decided to just start typing.  
  
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Legolas and Imahorewen sneaked out of the room. Each was dreamily gazing into the others' eyes. [Time to start on the rescue of Legolas.]  
  
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Anna looked on, shocked, as words appeared and started flowing across the monitor's screen.  
  
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Thranduil had busily held a council of war with his advisors. Knowing that they were powerless against the Mary-Sue's mind control, the various male Elves of Mirkwood turned this task over to their queen. Stalking around the room, the queen, who was most emphatically NOT Thranduil's mistress, began laying plans. The various male Elves were ordered to retreat to Thranduil's halls and abandon the odd structure that they had suddenly found themselves in at the beginning of this incident. Female Elves and their children went with them. Thranduil and his lady, as well as their older son, would take on the responsibility of eradicating this new evil themselves. Legolas, their younger son, was quite obviously under the mind control of this evil wench, otherwise he would never have trusted her, and never have spouted that abortive form of Westron. The plan was rather simple.  
  
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Anna looked on in horror at her main character's fate.  
  
"No! This shouldn't have happened! Something, like, wrong is going on here!" Anna squeaked in her somewhat creaky soprano. A figure appeared, speaking in, if not a melodious, certainly a cultured contralto. (I know my voice isn't, as far as singing goes, much good at all, but, honestly, it is a good talking voice.)  
  
"Too right, something drastically wrong is going on in Mirkwood. You, my dear, are the cause of it." This figure had brown hair of a darker color than Anna's, but appeared to be about the same age, and both their features resembled each other.  
  
"What do you mean? I didn't cause anything to happen!"  
  
"Oh?" The figure lifted on eyebrow in a query. "Then what, my dear, would you term your Mary-Sue?"  
  
"My Mary-What?!" Anna, was, if not precisely livid, certainly indignant. The person across from her, on the other hand, seemed completely calm.  
  
"Your Mary-Sue. A Mary-Sue is a." Here the female paused for a minute, and started to leaf through her dictionary.  
  
"Female character possessing all possible favorable traits and abilities with no unfavorable trait or ability to leaven it. She generally has either an awful or marvelous childhood. The character will occasionally come from an invented species, come from a canon species, another realm and/or have an enchantment placed upon her. Upon reaching adulthood, for no reason given whatsoever, she joins canon characters on a documented quest. She will also be far more beautiful than any maiden ever born. She will generally end up not only upstaging canon characters, but cutting all of the scary, annoying, hazardous and interesting parts out of the quest. One or more male characters will be instantly captured by her beauty and fall madly in love or lust with her. The writer forces us to read through several maddeningly saccharine love scenes in which any and all canon characters suddenly slip out of the mode of English they used in the book and are forced into modern English, complete with slang. The characters may also attempt rape.  
  
If the Mary-Sue takes place after documented quest, she may claim to be related to, or the betrothed of any important, interesting and/or good looking canon character. Once again, she will modify the behavior of any and all canon characters she encounters. She will also dramatically change places, language, events and any and all beings in order to make room for herself."  
Anna listened to this spiel with slightly glazed eyes. The female noticed this, and kept on talking. "Yes Anna, I know it's long, unwieldy, and rather wordy, but I have reason to believe it's mostly accurate. What will you say in your defense?"  
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Imahorewen and Legolas looked on in shock as Thranduil suddenly appeared. You see, Imahorewen was not only stark naked; she had also managed to divest Legolas of not only his tunic and shirt, but also his weapons. [Admit it now; all you Legolas lusters are happily drowning your keyboards in oceans of drool.] Imahorewen shrieked and ran for the large black stream that she and Legolas had wandered by.  
  
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"Who the h- are you?"  
  
"My apologies, dear. How careless of me not to introduce myself. I am Sunsong."  
  
"Ok, fine! But what on Earth are you doing here?"  
  
"Saving not only your Mary-Sue, but the two of us from a punishment by the authority higher than us both."  
  
"I don't understand." Anna was not only confused by the vocabulary used by this strange being, but also by the implication that she had not lived a less than blameless life.  
  
"It's very simple. The authority higher than us both is." A dark mist started coiling about the room.  
  
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Thranduil and his queen not only looked on in satisfaction, but tied up Legolas to prevent him from rescuing the girl. Imahorewen, fell into a deep sleep. Legolas's older brother used her slumbering form for arrow practice until her corpse faded from sight. All that is known is that there is currently one extremely well fed spider that can sing in a perfect soprano.  
  
Legolas turned to face his family. "My parents, my brother, I am ashamed. I know not how I could have acted like such a, a." Trailing off in an attempt to find the proper vocabulary, he gave up and continued, his head down. "Not only that, I am sorry I ignored you so, and mangled Westron so shamefully. I assure you, it is no fault of my tutor's. I know not words for how I feel, but I am so horribly ashamed for the way I have behaved towards all of you.Gimli, I would apologize to you as well, if you can hear me." The dwarf had gone missing ever since the Mary-Sue had arrived. Legolas sighed and trailed off. He was stunned to feel a hand upon his shoulder. Looking up, he was amazed at the understanding and love he could see in his father's face.  
  
His father started to explain. "Legolas, you are not to blame for any actions you performed while being controlled. You are still my son, and if nothing else we all love you-" Thranduil was interrupted by a deep bass voice.  
  
"Apology accepted. I am glad to see that I am remembered."  
  
"Gimli!" Legolas beamed at the sight of one of his dearest friends. Thranduil felt that he had said enough, and turning to his wife, asked her to accompany him. Legolas's older brother had decided to go ahead and spread the good news. Gimli and Legolas stayed by the stream for some time, reminiscing over the quest, the various battles, and amicably arguing over who had the most dead orcs to his credit.  
  
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Anna interrupted Sunsong after she had glanced at the screen. "You've ruined my story! I, like, worked so hard on that!" Sunsong, feeling rather put out at the interruption, decided to continue.  
  
"As I was saying, the authority above us both is the Canon."  
  
The mist pounced! 


	4. Let the punishment fit the crime!

A/N: Well? What did you think? Unfortunately for me, this is a rather tenacious plotbunny. I may end up writing several more chappies. Oh well . . .  
  
The viewpoint is now going to switch to first person (from my point of view). Don't worry; it's still a parody. If by any fatal accident on my part this turns into a Mary-Sue, you have my full permission to shoot me. With many, many, bullets.  
  
Cheers,  
  
Sunsong  
  
Incidentally, OFUM is the property of Miss Cam, a.k.a. Camilla Sandman. Read her fics!  
  
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Anna and I were in the dark mist. Anna and I were apparently standing on something, but when I looked down, it simply looked as though we were floating in thin air. A figure started walking towards us. It had a curiously androgynous look and wore long robes and I couldn't tell what gender it was. It did have a rather stern and somewhat upset look to it though. Glaring at me because I suppose if you go back far enough, I am responsible for Imahorewen .  
  
"You, Sunsong." Its voice was not what I'd term precisely welcoming.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"For all that Imahorewen was posted as a parody, you have still let loose a Mary-Sue in Mirkwood, and so-" The figure was interrupted by Anna.  
  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! Posted as a parody? I posted Imahorewen as, like a fully real and, like, y'know, possible story!" The figure looked gravely at me. I muttered something under my breath which I cannot type here because I like my story's current rating. The figure seemed to almost smile for a minute.  
  
"Then you shall share in the punishment." Anna was off like one of Gandalf's firecrackers.  
  
"Punishment? For what?! I didn't, you know, do anything wrong!" I could figure out what the punishment was for and decided not to dig myself in any deeper than I was. I kept quiet. The figure seemed to approve, and I let out a sigh of relief. Apparently my sigh was far too soon.  
  
"Why, punishment for letting a Mary-Sue loose in Middle-Earth of course. Although, due to the fact that Sunsong has first, killed off the Mary-Sue, and second, in her other fics has tried to keep close to the canon, her punishment will be mitigated." I could have almost kissed it.  
  
"What will be our punishment?" I felt it couldn't hurt to ask. The figure grinned, a most disturbing sight.  
  
"Why, to take part in an eleventh member Fellowship-of-the Ring quest, but not, for the most part, as you would be in that world. Due to your taking responsibility for the Mary-Sue, you, Anna, will be as you are- save that you shall be in that green monstrosity of a dress you contrived."  
  
Anna whimpered, "but I, like, look so HORRIBLE in green." Maybe it was more of a despairing wail.  
  
I was muttering some more curse words under my breath. My being in an eleventh member FOTR quest? Elrond would murder me . . . only he wouldn't stop at murder . . .dammit, I'm an OFUM graduate! I couldn't do this! My musings were shortly cut off by some more words from the figure.  
  
"Sunsong, I think that you fully appreciate the ramifications of this. Due to that fact, you shall be able to speak Westron and read the Feanorian script. Not only that, but your garments shall be inconspicuous, and you shall keep your knowledge and your ability- such as it is- to use a longbow." Ok, I really could kiss this figure. At least I'd be able to speak Westron. "Incidentally, you shall be responsible for Anna. If at any point in time, you wish her to be able to speak Westron, she shall be able to learn it more quickly than otherwise. The figure snapped its fingers as if to a servant. The mist coiled about us once more . . .  
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Anna: All right! I get to go with Leglolas to destroy the one ring, and hunt down orcs. Even if I do have to wear green, hey, didn't he say I'd look like my fic-girl? Double all right!  
  
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Sunsong: First of all, it's _Legolas _, not Leglolas. Second, on second thought, that will be in the next chapter. Any ideas for the next chapter? Praise, flames, possibilities . . . as long as it's in that little review box!  
  
P.S. OFUM is the property of the author Camilla Sandman. I have graduated. Read her fics!  
  
P.P.S. For those of you who are wondering, I will not lay claim to any knowledge or abilities I do not possess, save the ability to speak Westron and read and write with the Feaorian characters. I actually have taken archery lessons with the longbow. The reason I will probably not be picking up a sword is because my feet would probably be in more danger than my foes. 


	5. The Counsel of Elrond

A/N: I decided that, since this is a parody, I might make things a little more difficult . . . Note: this and the next chapter deal with the various points of view of the Fellowship members, as well as some various important Beings, before Anna and I join them, of course. Remember, this is a parody, explaining why this and the next chapter need to occur.  
  
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Elrond raised his goblet somewhat ironically. "To us, and to the hope that this venture succeeds." The various beings hidden away in his wine cellar raised their glasses and drank. It was good wine, dating all the way from the year of the Last Alliance, a fitting vintage for this council of the Fellowship, its owner mused.  
  
Due to the fact that various strange and unearthly females had kept turning up all over the place and moving the Fellowship back to Rivendell, the Fellowship had never gotten past Caradhras before the female in question vanished, and they suddenly reappeared in Rivendell with a new female. Unfortunately, the lines they spoke and the events that happened along the way kept changing. There was also the fact that Legolas and Aragorn had not gotten more than one night of complete sleep in the last few months. Both Arwen and Thranduil had loudly objected. Elrond was not sure which was worse. For all that his daughter could reach a higher octave (and a whole new one as well), Thranduil could be bitingly, cleverly, sarcastic.  
  
The bearers of the Three Elven Rings felt that there were two possible explanations as to why Sauron had not yet attacked. One was that he too, was not above the strange powers of these unearthly females, and so he too was being bumped back to the time of the council. The second explanation was that he was laughing his cornea off at the predicament of the various Elvenlords. The second explanation was thought the more likely. Of course, there was a third explanation given by Celeborn.  
  
That went something along the lines of ". . .Sauron doesn't exist as a Dark Lord anymore. One of those strange females who was claiming to be his daughter visited him and convinced him he could harm Middle-Earth more by becoming a politician." Most of the Elves decided to overlook this sudden madness upon the part of the Lord of the Galadhrim. Being in most respects completely sane, this was overlooked as eccentricity and hidden from all beings that were not Eldar, Valar or Maiar. This meant that when visitors came to Lothlorien, Galadriel dominated the conversations, lest her Lord put forth his strange view. When pressed by The Middle Earth Journal, "printed in both Quenya and Sindarin!" she declined to comment.  
  
The Middle Earth Journal was unfortunately started by one of the strange females who had not disappeared. She ran away when they reached Caradhras, yelling something about "cold! This wasn't supposed to be cold!" At least before she ran away, Aragorn had managed to disabuse her of the notion that she was his foster-father's second daughter.  
  
Annoyingly enough, there was also a fourth version put forth by Glorfindel. Much as he normally appreciated the Lord's odd sense of humor, Elrond found it hard to believe that this was all some diabolical ploy by the one called Gollum. Glorfindel believed that it ran along the lines off "if I can't have it, you can't have it either!" (It sounds much more polite in Sindarin.) Enough musing. Elrond decided that it was past time to start.  
  
"Now, as you know, the Ring has never been able to be taken past Caradhras."  
  
Boromir muttered something amounting to "and we're all dying to see what happens next." Pippin rolled his eyes. Merry poked him in the ribs. It quickly degenerated from there. Elrond decided to ignore both the interruption and argument.  
  
"Since we all wish to be sure the Ring will be destroyed soon - put it back inside your shirt, Frodo, you're making Boromir nervous- I have come up with a plan." The Lord of Imladris took a map out from a tunic pocket and spread it on a table. The members of the Fellowship, as well as Bilbo, crowded around. Arwen had heard her father go over it the night before with Glorfindel. She also was trying to finish her embroidery that unaccountably became undone the moment the Fellowship reappeared in Rivendell. Merry and Pippin were still poking each other in the ribs. Sam solved the problem by banging their heads together. Elrond, meanwhile, was pointing to his map  
  
" . . . This involves several risky elements, but hopefully, once completed, the Quest will be done. You shall each have a role to play." Elrond handed out rolls of parchment, each labeled neatly in the Feanorian characters. Various people began to moan, most notably Legolas. However, Arwen was not far behind. Elrond could guess why she had winced; however, he had attached appendixes to all the parchments, detailing various likely spots for the next female to go "missing." Very soon the groans changed to grins as members of the Fellowship understood precisely why they were supposed to play their role . . . and how to go about it . . .  
  
Pippin passed out. Merry started to "Tsk" at him, and then passed out as well. Sam looked at them, and then looked at his and Mister Frodo's glasses. The goblets were empty.  
  
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Anna: Hmm? Legolas, mmmmmmmmmm.  
  
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Sunsong: So, any ideas? If none, you can review all the same. I doubt Anna's lifespan will be for longer than the duration of this quest. . . When do you think I should kill her off?  
  
Ps. The Middle Earth Journal is the property of Thalia Weaver. I.O.W. (In Other Words), Thalia owns the copyright. 


	6. The Council of Elrond

A/N: Well my lovely, magnificent and talented readers (at pushing that little button labeled "review", and typing in the reviews) this will also be from the point of view of the Fellowship . . . MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Just in case you haven't remembered my views on evil laughter, evil laughter is FUN!!! I'm terribly sorry, but this chapter should also be parodying slash (the M-S's bane).  
  
Ps. Can anyone give me the (web) address of some accurate Quenya and Sindar dictionaries?  
  
Disclaimer: Three guesses. If you've guessed Tolkien, congratulations! You are in the right category and have won the right to read further.  
  
P.P.S. This is a book-verse and not movie-verse parody. Primarily because my idiotic, mostly new, V.C.R. that is one month past the end of its warranty is on the fritz.  
  
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Anna: Like, so, totally, cool! I get to go to the world Legolas lives in! Maybe I'll say I'm, like, Elrond's long-lost second daughter and Riv- whatever that place is, like, called so needs an alliance, like with Mirkwood . . . [Kindly excuse me whilst I regurgitate . . . Ooooooh, education will be fun!]  
  
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The various members of the Council looked at their scripts in preparation for the next female to come. Not knowing precisely when she would arrive, Elrond had given them scripts for the entire council. Having gone through so many variations on the council even the memories of the Eldar did not remember precisely what should occur. Due to that fact, Elrond had gone over as many variations upon the council he remembered with Glorfindel, and had compiled the average statements into one script. It had many strange words, and improbable music, but it was hoped that the next female would not even depart from Rivendell . . .  
  
Elrond knew his daughter was prepared. The Fellowship was ready. The Council he had assembled was waiting. Then why, he wondered, did he feel so nervous? Eru, give me strength to face this next female!  
  
Elrond went in and strode over to sit next to Glorfindel and Erestor. Legolas sighed, Aragorn, sitting next to him, shot the Mirkwood Elf a look of . . . no, the look wasn't exactly concern. Elrond did not know what it was; he merely had an uneasy feeling about it. It did not help that the Silvan Elf was gazing dreamily at Gimli son of Gloin, seeming to jerk his head to the side as though to bring his thoughts back to Middle- Earth. Surely the Elf and Dwarf were not . . . surely not. Elrond reluctantly conceded that it might be biologically possible, but . . .Elrond jerked his head a touch to bring himself back to Middle-Earth.  
  
Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo entered. The Lord of Imlad- Imlad-, he paid it no mind, -he could now remember little of his past, why should this one title mean so much to him? - the King of Rivendell stood up and led Frodo to the seat next to him. Of late, he found himself dwelling more and more on the hobbit's enormous blue eyes. Ridiculous, he told himself. Nothing could come of an Elf several centuries old and a . . . Elrond jerked his head again to bring his mind to a halt.  
  
Gandalf saw the man of Gondor and stopped. One of his eyebrows went up in a silent query. Elrond saw the eyebrow and answered, all the while keeping faithfully to the script he had devised.  
  
"This guy is Boromir. He's from the South. He came much to early in the morning and is asking for advice. He's supposed to be here so I won't have to repeat myself by explaining things twice."  
  
Gandalf's other eyebrow went up, the two seeming to almost touch at his hairline. The Council began debating, always keeping faithfully to the script so carefully forged by Elrond Half-Elven. Yet it was not until Boromir started to speak that Elrond noticed the tell-tale shimmer that told of another female.  
  
" . . . At this evil time I came running an errand over 110 days to Master Elrond. I don't look for help in battle because it's said that your strength is not in war." Several of the Elves of the Council started to bristle at this hopefully unintentional insult. Boromir than continued and the Elves relaxed. "But in intelligence. I came to ask you for help for interpreting a dream. My brother dreamed it twice, and I once." The shimmer was more noticeable now. "In my dream the sky to the East got dark and thundered but the sky to the West stayed light. From the sky in the West I heard this voice saying."  
  
As Boromir started to declaim, two (two?! Elrond stared in dismay) girls tumbled through the portal. They looked somewhat similar. One of the two had on a rather simple brown dress. The other one had on a monstrosity of a gown so stiff with gold embroidery that you could hardly see the olive fabric underneath. She appeared delighted with her dress. The other one looked around, taking everything in, then her eyes widened in shock as Boromir continued to declaim.  
  
"Seek for the Quest that was broken: Within Elrond's house it dwells: There shall be counsels taken Stronger than fangirl-spells. There shall be shown a token That The End is near at hand, For the M-S's bane shall waken, And the Author forth shall stand."  
  
The shorter of the girls (the one in the brown dress) stared for a moment, then pushed some strange device of glass perched on her nose farther up, then started to speak. She had a fairly odd accent, yet spoke Westron well enough. "Boromir?" The man nodded; they had long ago given up on understanding just how these females had known their names. "You've recited that poem all wrong! Now, repeat after me." Boromir nodded, mentally counting off the time until he could do her in. "Seek for the sword that was broken." Boromir repeated each word numbly after her. The girl continued to recite. "In Imladris it dwells: there shall be counsels taken stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token that Doom is near at hand, for Isildur's bane shall waken, and the halfling forth shall stand." Boromir repeated the lines after her. Suddenly, there was a shifting, and something of rightness in the plot began to make itself once more known in Imladris.  
  
Imladris! Elrond thought he could almost laugh from sheer relief. He was the "Lord of Imladris!" He remembered his past. He remembered Celebrian. He remembered his thoughts concerning the Ringbearer and blushed from shame. Perhaps the shorter girl would not be so bad after all. . .  
  
The taller girl tried to sway towards Legolas, tripped, snagged her gold embroidery on a rock and not noticing walked forwards. A raven, seeing the shiny thread, picked it up and began flying West with it. During the speech the taller girl apparently made to Legolas, only three words could be recognized from the foreign language the girl seemed to be speaking. The words were Legolas, Middle-Earth, and Elrond.  
  
The shorter girl seemed to be counting silently to herself. . . . Until she noticed what the taller girl had done to her dress. In other words, the monstrosity of a gown had unraveled. Then the girl smiled and muttered, "Thank you, Eru."  
  
Maybe one of the females might finally prove worth something.  
  
Legolas, who had been recently declaimed to in a language he didn't know by a girl in a monstrous gown, was trying not to reach for his dagger. Aragorn was suspicious. Gimli appeared unaffected. Most of the Fellowship was rather jealous of the fact that Gimli had been largely ignored. Gimli, Gandalf, Boromir of Gondor, and Samwise Gamgee had formed a "happily ignored" club, and spent most evenings peaceably smoking pipeweed while the rest of the Fellowship was out dodging females. The only reason the four had not helped their friends was because the strange females tended to put them within a strange black mist where they could not hear, see, or find the rest of the Fellowship. They had given up trying, and therefore kept themselves occupied whenever they found themselves in that strange limbo. However, all but Gimli had occasionally found themselves chased. While Boromir was somewhat grateful for the service performed him by the shorter girl, something about her made him nervous . . .Pippin and Merry were not there. Sam, sitting on the floor, made a promise to himself that he would be able to protect his Mister Frodo this time. Frodo fingered his ring and speculatively eyed the exits. . .  
  
Then something miraculous happened. Each member of the Council suddenly remembered how the Council of Elrond was supposed to play out and realized that now they had no need of the script. The girl in the olive dress began to interrupt - speaking Westron this time - until the girl in brown quieted her by sitting on her. The Council happily concluded with Sam, blushing and muttering.  
  
"A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mister Frodo!" he said, shaking his head.  
  
Meanwhile, in a black mist far, far, away, an androgynous figure was starting to smile . . .  
  
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Anna: What? I don't understand. Middle-Earth is, like, written in English. I, like, spoke to Leggy-weggy in English. Why didn't he, like, answer? Oh no! My dress!  
  
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Sunsong: First of all, that depends on what you would term English, second, the common tongue of Middle-Earth is Westron. Third, were I Legolas, I would do my best to completely ignore you! Now, has anyone got any ideas for the next chappie or so? I'd love to hear them. 


	7. Out of the frying pan and into the Fello...

A/N: *grins evilly * Oooh, this should be fun!  
  
Disclaimer: *glares at lawyer * All right, all right. None of Middle- Earth is mine. *sighs and lets the man of Gondor out from under her bed * Even Boromir. *cuddles mini-balrog in an attempt to console herself * Who's da gweatest mini-balrog ever? Whosacutiepie? *Looks up. * So? I wuv my mini! *Borrimir, the min-balrog in question, gives a look that translates to, 'she feeds me, I can live through this.' *  
  
Disclaimer #2: Miss Cam invented the mini-balrogs. She writes fics under the penname of Camilla Sandman. Read them!  
  
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I tumbled down into Middle-Earth. I was in a brown dress. Anna was in something that was originally olive green and absolutely stiff with gold embroidery. It must have weighed about 10 pounds. I had no idea how she could move in the thing. Unfortunately, she had landed on top of me. To my shock, I heard a voice declaiming. . .  
  
"Seek for the Quest that was:  
  
Within Elrond's house it dwells:  
  
There shall be counsels taken  
  
Stronger than fangirl-spells.  
  
There shall be shown a token  
  
That The End is near at hand,  
  
For the M-S's bane shall waken,  
  
And the Author forth shall stand."  
  
I looked up. My hormones started to go crazy. This. Was. Boromir. And his lines had gone all wrong! That couldn't happen! This was the Council of Elrond. Things needed to go according to plot! Well, no one seemed to notice anything as having gone wrong. It looked as though I would have to take that most Mary-Sueish of steps and correct the words.  
  
Gritting my teeth at what I would have to do, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and started to issue orders. Just to be sure I had the right man (although there seemed to be little doubt, considering the levels of my hormones) I asked, "Boromir?" He nodded. I began reciting the poem the right way around. Once I'd finished, something seemed to go sideways, but sideways correctly. It is a bit hard to describe.  
  
Anna tried to sway towards Legolas and tripped. That didn't deter her from declaiming to Legolas, who sat there, stunned. I would be stunned too- Anna made an entire speech in which she claimed to be Elrond's long lost second daughter and betrothed to him at their births to cement an alliance between Rivendell and Mirkwood- being talked at in a language I didn't know (this is Middle-Earth and Anna speaks only English) would be a stunning experience for me too. "Stunning" is meant purely in the pejorative sense.  
  
Meanwhile, I noticed a long, shimmering thread trailing upwards from her gown. I gazed up along its length and saw a bird. It was black, too large to be a crow, the wrong size for a rook, much too big to be a grackle- it was a raven. I always said they were clever birds. I grinned; Anna's gold embroidery was coming off and the olive fabric was showing through.  
  
However, as the Council began to go on, I took my mind off Anna. Honestly with three lusts tugging-of-war with me, how was I to concentrate? First there was Boromir. Sure, you've all seen the movie, but understand- all the characters here looked slightly different from the actors. Yes, there was a definite resemblance (in features) to Sean Bean, but Boromir had brown-black hair and gray eyes. Similarly, Legolas also has dark hair (consult your books, I can't remember precisely where it says, but Legolas' hair is dark!). Plus, they had a subtly different look to them. Sorry, I can't explain it any better than that. Now, although Sean Bean is definitely hot, Boromir has dark hair, is taller than I (a feat I'll admit is easy enough) and is here. Within reach of my paws.  
  
Then, there was the Ring. Since I'd landed in Middle-Earth, and I don't really want power all that much, I should be safe, right? Right? I started to walk towards it, than remembered the fate of my lust object. *He'd * had noble motives, but look. I'd read my LOTR (and its history). It looked like I'd better not. But then, if I had the ring, I could keep it safe. Than the elves would never leave Middle-Earth, Arwen would be able to stay near her family *and * marry Aragorn, Boromir wouldn't die . . . but then I remembered reading some of Tolkien's earlier drafts for _ Lord of the Rings _. In the ones where Boromir survived, evil still overpowered his nature; he joined and helped Saruman. Ok, I decided to get back to this topic later.  
  
I could see my third lust right in front of me: Middle-Earth itself. By that I mean its history. Who is Celeborn? (Tolkien gave out several variants of his history). Now where else could I find out Celeborn's (and others') histories but in a library? What better library to look in than Lord Elrond's himself? I kept my mind on this less dangerous train of thought for the duration of the council until Anna Smith interrupted, someone-or-other and started a ring-snatching attempt. I tackled her, and sat on top. She may be taller than I, but I have more, er, mass.  
  
Soon with Sam's trademark words concerning the pickle, the council broke up. Arwen came out and graciously volunteered to help Anna pick out a new dress from amongst her clothing. Anna acceded. I was suspicious of this definite non-canon and remained behind. I did not have long to wait. Anna soon ran out of a doorway at top speed; Arwen was chasing her, wielding a frying pan. Anna lost no time and went right to Lord Elrond. I groaned and covered my eyes.  
  
Anna made her eyes as wide as she could and pleaded, "Please, can I like, go into the, like, Fellowship?"  
  
Elrond, although at first, appearing oblivious to Anna's bug-eyes, sighed deeply and said, "very well."  
  
I groaned; what would happen next?  
  
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Well? Please review. 


	8. In which much bruises are accumulated

A/N: I am incredibly sorry for the delay in the posting of this chapter. This chapter deals with the month between the council of Elrond and the departure of the Fellowship. Since I'm actually taking fencing lessons now, I feel free to include them. This chapter is meant to be (humorous) filler. This chapter has my p.o.v. Depending on the responses I get, the next chapter will be either Elrond's point of view or the Departure from Rivendell.  
  
If anyone can give me an address of an elvish dictionary I will be very grateful. Please?  
  
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It had been about two weeks since the council. Things had fallen somewhat into Canon. Although most modern-American-English slang had disappeared, I had also seen Bilbo smoking a pack of cigarettes. I appreciated the cigarettes' stench as much as I ever have- which is to say not at all.  
  
Anna and I had been thoroughly and wretchedly sick from food poisoning the day after we arrived. Although Middle-Earth beings can apparently stomach practically anything, Anna and I had made careful mental notes ensuring that we either boiled our water previously, or drank wine, as per local custom. After the hangover of the third day, I drank my wine very well watered.  
  
On the fourth day I had been extremely stupid. In fact, I had been even more of a numbskull than usual. The problem was that Anna both had some measure of common sense and was a lefty.  
  
I had requested lessons in both fencing and archery. Anna had elected to join me. Our instructor was trying to teach us to fight together. At least Lord Elrond had delegated a female elf to instruct us; I doubt Anna would have concentrated on her foil had the instructor been male. As it was, my left hand was tied to her right and we were working on moving together.  
  
I winced and muttered, "idiot! Are you trying to kill me?" We were practicing some basic parries and thrusts. Somehow, she had managed to move her blade so that it caught mine, twisting my right wrist painfully.  
  
"I'm not an idiot! Get off my foot!" I rolled my eyes, but did as instructed. Our lives probably depended on this. I didn't know whether or not I would be killed, but the foreknowledge of Moria had insured my attentiveness. Annoyingly, however, not only was the Man of Gondor frustratingly elusive, I was so exhausted by the end of the day that I could barely work up the strength to think about a visit to Rivendell's extensive library.  
  
At the beginning of last week, Earwing, our instructor, had said in accented Westron, "I cannot make either you masters of weapons; you come too old and with too small time. I shall give you knowledge basic. You two shall be able to defend yourselves. But know, in battle, nothing is just. Use what works. Now, look to yourselves- defend!" Then she had given the two of us a thorough trouncing. I * still* had the yellowish- green bruises. For pity's sake I had bruises on my bruises!  
  
At this week's Morgoth-cursed start, we had been tied together by our weak arms. Her right arm was attached to my left. The leather cord stretched just enough that we should, technically, be both able to defend each other and attack, each guarding the other's weak side. All we had managed to do was drag the other face-down into the dirt. Not to mention the fact that we were tied together all day until we fell, exhausted, into bed. When we had appeared at dinner yesterday, a male elf with a long blond braid had remarked on it to Elrond. Anna and I were led to understand that similar devices had been used on Elrond's sons in the past. For some reason I doubted that Elladan and Elrohir had ever had to endure a meal thus; I was, however, grateful that medieval eating habits prevailed; this would have been too much to endure with fork and knife.  
  
However, for now we were tied together and still wielding our foils. There would be archery practice after lunch when the sun reached its zenith. There would be no unnecessary bystanders- the combined archery blunders of Anna and I ensured practically every arrow went where "no arrow had gone before" - and with our hands tied together it was especially hazardous to stand about twenty feet away from the target in the stands. I turned my attention back to my blade and resumed my attempts to avoid being dragged every which way by Anna.  
  
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A/N: Well. . . questions? Comments? Reviews, as always, deeply appreciated.  
  
Incidentally, medieval eating habits involved taking your dagger in hand and sawing merrily away. There was the ever-exciting choice of choosing whether to employ dagger or finger in lifting the food to one's mouth. 


	9. Eleven!

A/N: Well, yes. The last week (and council meeting) or so before departing Rivendell is Anna's. Please just imagine the "like"s typed every third word or so. Dana is used as my name here. Which it is. Or isn't . What do you think? I'm not likely to tell. And yes, I know that it's been shamefully long since I've updated last. I'm really, really sorry, but I have resolved to update this fic before I go on vacation. My muse *did * hit me in the back of my head with her polished oak staff, after all . . . When possible, all dialogue has been lifted straight from the books. Much as I love the movies, it is, in the end, the books I return to. Besides, this is about ANNA'S education. And, so, quotations come from books. See if you can spot them.  
  
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's. Except what isn't.  
  
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It was a beautiful fall day. You know, the kind where you'd jump into leaves except you're too old . . . and your best friend's brother's supercute male friend is watching you. Elrond and the hobbits and everyone else was around the big stone platform-thingy. Legolas was across from me. It was really hard to pay attention to what was being said, too. I still couldn't understand how Dana managed, while reading three or four books a day, getting lectures on the history of Middle-Earth and trying to fence (I'm soooo much better) and KEPT ME AWAY FROM MY LEGGY-POO!!!!!!!!!!!1  
  
Honestly!  
  
Well, Elrond was looking at the hobbits really seriously and went like, "The time has come, if the Ring is to set out, it must go soon." This wasn't ANYTHING like the movie! I didn't get it! Anyways, Elrond went on and on like, "But those who go with it must not count on their errand being aided by war or force. They must pass into the domain of the Enemy far from aid. Do you still hold to your word, Frodo, that you will be the Ring- bearer?  
  
"I do," said Frodo. "I will go with Sam."  
  
Then I cannot help you much, not even with counsel," said Elrond. I can foresee very little of your road; and how your task is to be achieved I do not know." Here Dana grabbed my right wrist.  
  
"Look," she hissed at me. Don't say a word. Not one word. I'll talk to you later."  
  
"But-"  
  
"I'll gag you if I must. Now keep quiet, and let me speak, before something here goes REALLY wrong." A few elves glanced over at us; the rest kept their eyes on Elrond as he stated:  
  
"The Company of the Ring shall be Eleven; and the Eleven Walkers shall be set against the Eleven Riders that are Evil."  
  
At the mention of the number, 'eleven,' Dana had started massaging her temples with thumb and forefinger of her right hand.  
  
"With you and your faithful servant, Gandalf will go; for this shall be his great task, and maybe the end of his labours.  
  
For the rest, they shall represent the other Free Peoples of the World; Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Legolas shall be for the Elves; and Gimli son of Gloin for the Dwarves. They are willing to go at least to the passes of the Mountains, and maybe beyond. For men you shall have Aragorn son of Arathorn, for the Ring of Isildur concerns him closely."  
  
I was waiting for the 'you have my sword/bow/axe' lines- I still don't get it!  
  
"Strider!" cried Frodo.  
  
"Yes," he said with a smile. "I ask leave once again to be your companion, Frodo." Then the two went on a whole long conversation and they basically said Boromir was coming, and it was all so boring! And then Pippin and Merry got to come along, and then Dana clapped a hand over my mouth and gritted her teeth.  
  
"Anna, unseen forces are pushing me into this." She then addressed Elrond. "We too, would have to be tied in a sack to prevent us from following this company."  
  
Elrond seemed as though he would disagree, but then a weird non-sound filled the chamber. The world seemed to move slightly askew.  
  
"Let it be so then. You shall go," said Elrond, and he sighed. "Now the tale of Eleven is filled. In seven days the Company must depart."  
  
As the various peoples began filing out of the room, Dana pulled me aside.  
  
"Now. Be this understood. You will NOT act all wise and mystic-ish and reveal stuff ahead of time. Understood? You will not share what EVENTUALLY happens to this Fellowship with anyone."  
  
"Why? If it'll save-"  
  
"That's it! No matter who it saves, it will lead to worse. Whichever one of the Fellowship you are thinking of, it will not work! When we have a chance to be alone, I'll explain why. For now, have you ever heard of the self-defeating prophecy?"  
  
I totally did not understand. "The what?" Elrond was watching us intently.  
  
"Self-defeating prophecy," Dana sighed. "Basically, our being here affects this world in bazillions of tiny, crucial ways. Say, an apple is lying on the table. Say that in the ordinary course of things, that apple, somehow, in a couple of hundred years, starts an apple orchard. Say that the apples from that orchard start trade in fruits between Harad and Gondor. Don't ask- but they don't like each other very much- and in a few hundred more years, Gondor and Harad sign a peace treaty. But, if you eat that apple, the orchard won't start and Gondor and Harad won't sign a treaty AT ALL, leading to War between the two countries and all the evils associated therein."  
  
"What does that have to do with-"  
  
"I'm getting to that. Now, accept that we change this world just by existing. Next, IF we say what will happen (in some cases not such a very good thing) THEN the parties involved may actively work either for it, or against it. See? Now, if these parties work for it, then they'll change it's happening if it was supposed to come about by pure chance. Tell you what- let's go over to dinner while I tell you the Oedipus cycle. I played Creon in "Antigone" and I have a pretty good memory."  
  
She led me off. Elrond followed the two of us. His eyes were narrowed, and he appeared to be thinking.  
  
Oedipus was sort of interesting. Although I did fall asleep while Dana was going through the mythology.  
  
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Well? Questions? Comments?  
  
For those of you who wonder, I overacted horribly when I was Creon. I loved every minute of it. 


End file.
